Challenges
by Aussie73
Summary: A series of small ficlets from the Word of the Week challenge posted by the SJFic group. Sam and Jack of course! Various categories. Rated M for stories 12, 13, 17, 19, 23, 26 and 27.
1. Beginning

Written in response to the Word of the Week challenge on the SJFic group over at Yahoo. This will be a series of 100-500 word ficlets. Some of you may have already read this fic. I posted it recently on this site, but did not want to delete it due to the nice reviews I've already received. So have simply added it to this grouping. I hope you enjoy!

**Categories**: Romance, Hurt/Comfort

* * *

It was the end. 

The Goa'uld were defeated … for the most part.

The Replicators would trouble no-one any longer … in this galaxy, at least.

The Jaffa were free.

She'd split up with Pete.

And her father had died.

It was the end.

Sam Carter – Lieutenant Colonel in the USAF – bit back the sob that rose up out of her throat as she watched the man cast his line.

"Sam? You okay?" he asked, his silver hair mussed and shining in the early morning sun.

"What? Oh … yes, I'm fine," she told him.

"You're a crappy liar, Sam," he replied. Then: "C'mere."

General Jack O'Neill set his fishing rod to one side, then slipped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips.

It was the beginning.


	2. Mondays Suck

_Had to delete the story 'Beginnings', as it is also the first story in this Challenge series, and this site doesn't allow the same story in twice under a different name. A shame, because I had some nice reviews, but what can a girl do?_

**Categories**: Humor, Romance

* * *

"Mondays suck," Sam Carter muttered disconsolately, staring down at the smashed coffee cup, with the delicious stuff of life now meandering pathetically across her counter top.

She'd slept through her alarm. Then there'd been no hot water for her shower. And she'd put a run through her last pair of stockings, meaning she had to dig out the dreaded panty-hose.

She could almost hear her former CO snickeringly chide, "More haste, less speed, Carter!"

For a man who professed such disdain for clichés, he was certainly handy with them.

She growled and grabbed her jacket, heading out of her home and for her car, only to step in a puddle on the road.

And she promptly let out a very un-Colonel whimper.

No-one had better get in her way today!

* * *

Everyone was getting in her way today.

"Colonel; please sign this."

"Colonel; can you check my results?"

"Colonel; I need to leave early tonight."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!" she finally yelled.

Loudly.

And the crowd of babbling scientists took a group skitter backward. Huh; synchronized skittering.

"Just … give me five minutes, will you? Please?" she asked.

Her jabbering colleagues took in the look of impending doom on Samantha Carter's face and evidently decided to make a strategic withdrawal.

Leaving Sam to go back into her lab, shut the door and draw a deep breath of relief.

Then someone – with a death wish evidently – had the temerity to open her door.

"What now?" she growled without turning round.

A hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around. "Hey there," Jack O'Neill said. He dipped his untidy silver head and gave her a slow, warm kiss. "Missed ya."

Sam slid her arms around her husband's neck and returned the kiss with fierce abandon.

Maybe Mondays didn't suck, after all.


	3. Monday's Child

**Categories**: Humor, UST

_Another response to the 'Monday' challenge posted this week._

* * *

_Monday's child is fair of face_

_Tuesday's child is full of grace …_

The old children's rhyme went through Jack O'Neill's mind as he watched the activities of his team in general and his 2IC in particular.

Sam Carter was a beautiful woman, strong and powerful, yet with a certain delicate grace to all her movements.

Even now when she was digging about the soil of P5 … yadda … for trinium and her hands were covered in mud, with some of it ending up in her hair.

"Sir?" The woman sat down next to him. "Is everything okay? You look … a bit out of it."

"Just thinkin' …," Jack said vaguely.

Sam snickered. "Don't hurt yourself, sir," she murmured, fiddling on with her laptop.

Smart ass. He would've busted her, except he was too damn proud.

"Hey, Carter!" he said suddenly.

"Yes, sir?"

"What day were you born?"

And now she did her _Have patience with the oddball Colonel_ look. "Monday, sir. Why?"

"Oh, nothin'," Jack replied.

_Monday's child is fair of face._

Hell, yeah!


	4. Oatmeal

_This week's challenge._

_Category: Fluff, Humour, Romance._

* * *

Oatmeal was a strange stuff. It had the consistency of wallpaper paste and was pretty … bland.

Jack O'Neill lifted his spoon and considered his oatmeal.

Bland.

But add some syrup, or some strawberry jelly – or sugar, for traditionalists – and it became a delicious sweet treat.

Besides, he'd needed to switch his breakfast choice after those damn… two months … three months? … of looping wherein he'd eaten nothing but Froot Loops.

Of course, good things had happened during that time as well.

_Smirk._

* * *

Samantha Carter looked over at the smirking General. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"Oh, nothin'," the man told her.

Then got that cat-and-the-canary look he'd taken to wearing when he was having a private joke.

"Just enjoying my oatmeal."

"Okay." He could be so strange at times, but over the years she'd come to find it endearing. "I'm afraid you won't be able to finish it, though."

"Carter …," he whined. "I'm a General; I want my oatmeal."

"Fine," she said and pushed herself away from the table. "I'll just go and have our daughter then. See you later."

"Bye," he returned absently.

* * *

Jack poured some more syrup onto his oatmeal and stirred it with his spoon.

"Wha …?"


	5. Weary

_**Categories: Romance, kinda angst.**_

_**Set between Seasons 8 and 9.**_

* * *

You have been tired before.

Exhausted.

Living off adrenaline and caffeine.

But this bone-deep … soul-deep … weariness is a relatively new condition.

Ever since your father died and you split with Pete, you have become aware of the emptiness of your life.

Yes; you have a great team, who would lay down their lives for you and vice versa.

Yes; you are one of only a few female Lieutenant Colonels leading a front-line unit.

Yes; you are one of the world's leading theoretical astrophysicists.

But you are tired. And lonely.

Your father had told you that you shouldn't let rules stand in the way. You'd feigned ignorance, but knew you hadn't fooled him.

So you ended your relationship with Pete. A good, caring man – but not too perfect – he'd been hurt, but had wished you happiness.

"I hope you get what you want," he told you.

But do you really know what you want? You have become so accustomed to considering him out of reach.

Now, however … Your brilliant – if somewhat eccentric – commanding officer transferred to the Pentagon last week to take up the role of Head of Homeworld Security.

This move gave him a well-deserved second star … and effectively removed you out of his direct chain of command.

So, theoretically, there is nothing stopping you from seeing if whatever it was you had could be something more.

You lift up your hand to knock when the door is wrenched open.

That familiar care-worn – but still handsome – face is marred by a scowl that is quickly replaced by a gentle, tender smile. "Carter," he says, "surprised to see you here. Thought you'd be packing for R&D."

"I should be," you reply quietly, "but I … wanted to see you."

"Ah." Your CO … check that; former CO … shrugs then takes your arm in his large hand and draws you into his new government-issue apartment. "Well, let me give you the guided tour," he says.

You smile at him, aware of the warmth of his hand on your skin, and allow him to give you the 'guided tour'.

Which takes all of ten minutes. As a single man, he does not need the near-palatial Alexandria residence often preferred by a man in his position.

You end up on the small balcony, looking down into the quiet street. There is silence, but it's a comfortable one.

His arms are around your waist from behind and his chin rests lightly on your shoulder.

This should feel strange … awkward, even, after so many years of dancing around each other.

But it doesn't.

The word 'right' springs to your mind.

This man is right.

His arms around you are right.

"Sam?" he says softly.

You turn in his embrace and your lips meet his, exploring, touching, tasting and caressing.

And as you relax into his loving embrace, you realize that your weary soul has finally found rest.


	6. Sunshine

**Categories: Angst, Romance**

* * *

Jack cracked open an eye and smothered the instinctive groan– oy, bright sunshine.

It's funny, but he's never been that fond of the sun.

The sun was shining when he landed on the Iran/Iraq border – nine long pain-filled days trying to drag his broken body to friendly soil.

It shone when Frank Cromwell left him behind – four months of agony and torture punctuated by the bright sun of the Iraqi desert.

The day he lost everything to a single gun-shot.

The day Daniel died/ascended.

The day Abydos was destroyed by Anubis.

The day Jacob Carter died.

Small wonder Jack O'Neill didn't like the sun.

"Morning," a woman's voice said sleepily.

"Mornin'," he grumbled back, squinting against the bright light.

Sam snuggled into his bare chest, wrapping her slim arms around his waist. "Let's sleep in, huh?" she said.

A soft snore indicated that she'd done precisely that.

Looking down at her blonde head, Jack smiled slightly. For him, Sam Carter was sunshine. And that brand of sunshine ... He loved very much.


	7. Delayed

**_Categories:_ Humor, Missing Scene**

**_Spoilers:_ Children Of The Gods**

**_Summary:_ Just why WAS Sam late to that first briefing?**

* * *

Colonel Jack O'Neill (no longer retired) stuffed his hands into his pockets as he strolled along the dismal gray corridors of the newly established Stargate Command. 

His last meeting with General Hammond had gone over much better than the first, the older man seeming to have forgiven Jack for the fudging on his original mission report.

Then Hammond had ordered him to the Infirmary for a pre-reactivation check-up.

The man was evil. But he was Jack's kind of evil.

_Heh_.

He snickered, drawing a strange look from a young blonde woman with wide blue eyes. Geez; had he ever been that young? You could practically still see the soft spot on the back of her head!

"Moron," she mumbled under her breath.

"Lieutenant?" he hazarded.

"Captain, actually," the young woman replied, her shoulders stiffening. Pretty in a wholesome peaches-and-cream kinda way. If he'd been twenty years younger, he would've been trying to get in her pants by now.

God, he was so old.

"Who's the moron?" Jack said, giving her an eyebrow-waggle.

"Oh, some Marine Corps idiot," she said. "Tried hitting on me a couple of minutes ago and now I'm going to be late for …". She trailed off, her cheeks going a sweet pink. "Sorry, Colonel," she said. She looked at her watch. "I should go."

"Yeah," he said, looking at his own watch and realizing he was due up in the briefing room. "Maybe I'll see you around," he offered.

She smiled at him. "I'd like that," she said, then went pink again. "Oh … uh … not like that," she blustered.

Jack fought the urge to pat her head … he kinda thought she might bite his hand. "I know what you meant, Captain," he reassured her. Very young, but very cute. He could understand why the jarhead had hit on her.

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_Oh, such a grown-up!_, Sam Carter chided herself twenty minutes later. Now dressed in her Class A's, she was still ruminating over the strange would-be flirtation with the Colonel and knew she'd come off like an idiot.

She'd been out of the dating/flirting arena for a while – having lost the inclination after things had gone sour with Jonas – and she'd never been good with guys, anyway. Her natural good looks had made her a target for flirtation, and for those dinosaurs who thought she'd slept her way up the ranks … or batted her lashes at daddy.

But there was something about the handsome brown-eyed man she'd met that made her think maybe things would be different here.

"Carter?" she heard a male voice query as she got to the briefing room.

A distinctly familiar male voice.

_Oh, shoot me now!_


	8. Toys

_**Category: Humor, Spiritual**_

_**Summary: Observations on our favorite couple by those who've passed on.**_

* * *

"Hi, Jacob," she greets her friend.

"Janet," he replies. "Whatcha doin'?"

Hmmmm … Someone's spent a little too much time with a certain wise-cracking General.

Janet still wonders what the Joint Chiefs were smoking when they decided to promote Jack to Brigadier General. Not that he didn't deserve it, but he is the most sarcastic, obstinate, bull-headed, undiplomatic …

"Did you hear; he's been promoted again," Jacob says with an evil grin.

Prescience comes with their new forms, but sometimes Jacob Carter is downright spooky. "Yes," Janet replies. Then she returns the evil grin. "He and Sam are still together, you know."

Jacob grimaces playfully. "I knew he'd be trouble the first time I met him," he offers. "He called her Sam at a medal ceremony, for crying …". He coughs and doesn't finish the sentence.

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"Hey, Carter!"

"Hi, sir."

"So … whatcha doin'?"

"I'm about to do an analysis of …".

"Carter …" – this comes in a growl – "evil."

"I learned from the best."

"And I'm proud; really. And now that you're back at the SGC, I expect more of the same."

"Of course!" There is a pause. "I ran into Agent Barrett when we were dealing with the whole Ba'al clone thing."

"Ah. Triple Bocce … not my idea of a good thing."

"No, sir. Anyway, Malcolm …"

"Malcolm?"

"Yes, sir. He asked me if I was single again."

"And …?"

"I said not exactly."

"Ah, for crying out …". There are several nasty foreign expletives Janet has never heard before. "Carter; what did you agree?"

"That I wasn't to torment you – unless I was wearing a certain … item."

"Right! And are you wearing that … certain item?"

"Sir … I'm in my lab."

"That's not an answer, Carter."

"Well, drop by tonight, and you'll find out."

"Deal." There is a short silence. "Carter?"

"Yes, sir."

"I love ya."

"Love you too." There is another pause. "Sir?"

"Yeah."

"I'm wearing a different item. It's blue."

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm."

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"Is Jack O'Neill moaning? At my daughter?" Jacob shudders again. "That's just … wrong."

"They're good together," Janet consoles him, trying to hide her grin. "You know that or you wouldn't have given her that whole 'You can still have everything' speech."

"Hey, I was dying!" Jacob excuses himself. "I want her to be happy – doesn't mean I want to know how she gets happy."

"Hah; you didn't see them at their first meeting," Charlie Kawalsky interrupts. He shrugs. "Just … spontaneous combustion." He grins. "I thought they'd either kill each other or ravage each other." He grins again. "They're not dead yet."

"Argghh! Too much information, Charlie!" Jacob protests.

Charlie grins again. "C'mon Jacob, lighten up," he taunts. "You can't tell me you think someone as gorgeous as Sam is gonna stay a virgin forever."

"Ugh." Jacob shudders. "Drop dead, Kawalsky."

"Already done it," Charlie sing-songs.

"Encore!" the former Tok'ra growls.

"Children," Janet interrupts wearily. Then she grins as she accesses the past and watches Sam and Jack's first meeting. "Wow; I see what you mean, Charlie," she says. "Spontaneous combustion."

"Oh yeah!" Charlie agrees.

Jacob groans and disappears back into the ether.

Charlie looks at Janet mournfully. "You broke my toy."


	9. Nervous

_**Categories: Humor, pre-ship**_

* * *

Sam looked at the man in amazement. Even after a week-long, filthy, miserable, mud-logged mission on a filthy, miserable, mud-logged excuse for a planet, the Colonel practically bounced as he led his bedraggled forlorn team – yes, even Teal'c! – down the ramp.

She nudged Daniel. "Tell me you feel as old as I do right now," she pleaded. This was only their second mission after the planet of tight blue dresses, but she and the young linguist had clicked almost immediately.

Daniel smiled at her. "Oh yeah," he sighed. He indicated Jack, who was presently talking to Teal'c, hands gesturing animatedly. "I sometimes think he's drank from the Fountain of Youth."

"Hit the showers, kids!" the Colonel said chirpily, then stuffed his hands into his pockets and barrelled out of the embarkation room.

Daniel and Teal'c looked at each other, then followed the so-called middle-aged Colonel out.

Sam went along at a slower pace, shaking her head and fighting the exhaustion. Drank from the Fountain of Youth? More like went swimming in it!

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Several hours – and a good nap – later, Sam was beginning to feel human again, and joined her team-mates in the commissary.

The Colonel had an apple pie – not a slice, an apple pie – in front of him, covered with ice cream. He dug into it with evident relish as he attempted to explain to their confused Jaffa friend the joys of hockey.

"Ah … guess ya haveta be there," he concluded.

"Evidently, O'Neill," Teal'c agreed. "I was perusing your periodicals this morning and observed that there is to be a … contest tonight."

"A match, Teal'c," Daniel said.

"A match. I would like to witness this match," Teal'c stated resolutely.

The Colonel appeared nonplused, but only for a second. Despite his dumb act, it took a lot to rattle the man. "Okay! Tonight, we watch hockey!"

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Quite how Sam Carter found herself at a hockey game, she didn't understand.

One minute she'd been yawning into her coffee refusing firmly, the next, the Colonel had done a remarkable impression of a sad puppy and … she'd been suckered.

Damn his brown eyes, anyway.

Teal'c didn't need sleep – relying instead on a form of meditation – and it seemed that her CO could go without too. She knew that part of it was due to his Special Forces days, but she knew some of it was just … him. He was vibrant and energetic, making her forget that he was quite a bit older than her.

His hand shot up, expertly fielding the bag of popcorn the young vendor threw his way and Sam sighed. A full pie with ice cream, and now buttered popcorn. If he'd been forty years younger, this evening would be due to experience an ugly end.

Daniel nudged her. "So, that's where he gets his energy!" he said. "I wonder what he'd do if we hid all the candy on the base?"

Sam giggled at the image of an antsy Colonel O'Neill tearing the SGC apart for his sugar hit, then sobered quickly when chocolate-brown eyes locked onto her.

"You wouldn't dare, Sam," he teased, waggling his eyebrows. "Not if you want that fetching blue dress to stay between the four of us."

Sam blushed at the memory of her team-mates' awed expressions – even Teal'c had lost his usual calm. "You win, sir," she said, patting a tee-shirt-clad shoulder reassuringly.

He beamed at her and something fluttered briefly in the pit of Sam's stomach before settling down. "Of course," he replied lightly, tearing into the popcorn with relish.

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"How the hell d'you eat so much and stay so slim?" Sam asked her CO later as they sat in a small burger joint. She eyed his double bacon cheeseburger enviously and sipped her diet soda.

"I get plenty of exercise, Captain," he replied. "Lots of ways to burn it off."

"I'll bet." Sam chose to blame the beer for the … interesting ways of burning off food that sprang instantly to mind. Yes; he might be her CO, but she wasn't blind. She'd recognized his sex appeal the minute she'd laid eyes on him. Of course, he'd had to ruin the moment by opening his mouth.

"Tsk, tsk, Samantha … you dirty-minded girl," the Colonel fairly purred into her ear.

And that nervous fluttering started again.

Damn; she was in trouble.

THE BEGINNING?


	10. Anticipation

_**Categories: Romance (established); Humor**_

* * *

"Hey, Carter; whatcha doin'?"

Sam smiled, even though she knew he couldn't see it through the phone line. "Actually … nothing," she admitted.

"What; nothing?" The man gasped theatrically. "Stop the presses – Carter's goofing off!"

"Say it a bit louder, why don't you?" Sam said. "I don't want the Head of Homeworld Security to hear you."

"Yeah; he's a grouchy old son of a bitch," Jack replied.

"Yes, he is. But I love him anyway," Sam said.

"He loves you, too," Jack said gruffly.

Sam smiled again. She'd been doing that a lot lately – smiling to herself. Maybe it was time she checked the O2 levels. "So … when will I be seeing you again?"

There was no recrimination in her tone. They might only see each other once or twice a month, but they were closer now than they'd ever been before their respective transfers.

"Get this, Carter – on Friday. I've got a week's leave and I thought I'd spend it with my favorite geek."

"Daniel will be thrilled." Things inside of Sam were doing the Snoopy dance.

"You're becoming very sarcastic as you're getting older," Jack commented. "I'm proud." There was a pause. "Anyway, I'd better go – need to give Senator Fox a hard time."

"Okay. I'll see you on Friday, then," Sam said. "I can't wait."

"Neither can I, Sam." There was another pause. "This is a cliché, but I don't want to hang up."

"You're such a child!" Sam laughed. "I'll hang up. Love you. Bye."

And she put the receiver down to the sound of his indignant yell.

Her cell phone flashed, indicating a SMS message.

_**Carter; I'm gonna make you pay for that**_

She hit the 'reply' option.

_**Bring it on, fly-boy**_

And the Snoopy dance began again in Sam's insides.

Ooooh, anticipation!


	11. Tempestuous

_**Categories: Point of View, Romance**_

* * *

The man has always been a force of nature.

Bright, vigorous, engaging, caring and tempestuous.

I've worked with him for eight years – seven as his direct 2IC and a year under his overall command.

And they were some of the most amazing – and most painful – years of my life.

Friends, lovers, family died.

People were promoted and moved on.

But he remained a constant.

Always there with a quip, silent sympathy or the occasional broad shoulder.

But now that constant has ended.

He lives in a different part of the country.

But that's okay.

Now we're together in the most important way.

And I'm able to calm his tempests with a quip, silent sympathy and my love.

I can finally say it out loud: "I love Jack O'Neill".

And his tempests are just a part of that wonderful, exasperating package.


	12. Anticipation II

_**Category: Romance**_

**_Note: I know I already did a part entitled Anticipation. This is not a sequel ora redux, but an entirely different story. I'm just ... bad at naming things._**

* * *

She is a scientist.

Science requires calmness, patience, and level-headedness.

She is nothing if not a good scientist.

But there is the other part of her.

The part that loves motorcycles, classic cars, and competing in 'whacked-out' alien space races.

That part despises the very notion of patience, calm and level-headedness.

That part hates anticipation.

Those two parts of Sam Carter have waged a war for many years: to wait until the time is right or to jump his bones there and then?

In the end, the scientist won out.

And she waited.

Now, the Goa'uld have been all but defeated. The Replicators have been wiped out and she and the man she loves have both transferred out of the SGC.

The time is right.

The man is right.

Soft lips acquaint themselves with her throat and her body …

Long fingers do the same …

A heavy frame covers her slim one …

And as she sighs his name in completion, she realizes there is a lot to be said for anticipation.


	13. Spontaneity

_**Category: Romance, Humor**_

**_We of the SJFic group were invited to submit ficlets for one of the old challenges. This is one of mine! Hope you like._**

* * *

**20,000 feet up:**

Jack O'Neill was seriously – seriously – irked.

Peeved.

Annoyed.

Pissed off.

If he'd thought ahead, he could have spared himself the hell of flying coach and waited the extra two hours for the military connection.

But no-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o. Had to be spontaneous, didn't he? Couldn't have thought ahead, could he?

_You never think ahead, you mook. You're allergic to planning._

When had his inner voice started to sound like Daniel? Frankly, it was creepy.

And he did plan. Those pretty ribbons on his chest weren't just for decoration, ya know!

Of course, some of those ribbons had been earned because of spontaneity rather than rigidity.

But … whatever … The fact remained that this little act of spontaneity was giving him a headache the size of a mothership. It throbbed in time with the kicks that an obnoxious brat was giving to the back of his chair. Jack usually liked kids, but he could see himself committing murder before this flight was over.

_Remind me why I'm doing this again?_, he groused silently.

And pictures filled his mind.

Blonde hair, big blue eyes, gigawatt smile.

Soft creamy skin, long legs, great curves, sweeeeeeeeet tank tops.

_Yeah. Okay._

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**Nevada:**

Jack signed through the various security checkpoints, somehow feeling better at the alarm on the various geeks' faces at his presence.

After all, it wasn't very often the Head of Homeworld Security showed up at Area 51 unannounced.

Ostensibly he was here to discuss the development of the Mark IX with Lieutenant Colonel Carter – she of the sweeeeeeeeet tank tops. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

But he simply wanted to see her again.

He was a sap. He could deal with that.

He strode along the corridors to Sam's lab and stuck his head cautiously in, hoping not to catch any techno-babble.

It was catching, you know. He'd found himself using the expression 'electro-magnetic pulse' in a discussion just the previous day. And he'd used it in context.

Gah.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" came Carter's dulcet tones and he smirked.

Apparently they were rubbing off on each other. And in more than just the friction-y, Newton's Laws kinda way.

_A-ah! Brain. Hurting. Here._

It really was catching.

She of the evil infectious techno-babble burst out of the opposite lab, lips set mutinously, blue eyes flashing murderously, chest heaving … enticingly.

She was brainy.

She was dangerous.

She was insanely hot.

"Hey, Carter!" he said cheerily, the last of his bad mood gone as he took in his former 2IC's flushed features. He knew just the trick for dealing with a pissed off Carter.

He'd lost ten pounds during the month after their respective transfers. And his blood pressure had dropped too. His doctor had asked him how he'd done it; Jack had somehow managed not to brag. Had to keep up the officer and gentleman façade, right?

"Sir …," Carter said. In an evil purring tone.

Maybe it was sick, but when she called him 'sir' in that tone, all sorts of things happened down below.

Last time she'd done that, it had been during a briefing at the Pentagon and she'd walked away from the briefing table, techno-babbling with Jack's aide.

Leaving Jack with a … ahem … big problem.

At least he could do something about it this time.

Suddenly, a slim hand grabbed his dog-tags and the hot blonde Colonel pulled him into her on-base quarters, lips fastening quickly onto his.

_Oh yeah; totally worth it!_, he decided as those slim hands quickly rid them both of all their clothing.

Although next time he decided to surprise his wife, he was so not flying coach!


	14. Beginning II

_**Categories: Friendship, UST, Hurt/Comfort**_

* * *

People running. Fearful, anxious, determined, terrified.

"Quickly, Jolinar!" a man shouts.

Jolinar looks around in confusion, determined to find …

Sam blinked out of the flash of memory as a familiar smirk appeared in her line of vision. "Hey, Carter! Earth to Carter!"

"Sir," she offered lamely. _Did I not lock the door when I came home?_, she mused. She could admit that she'd been a bit out of it lately – having a Goa'uld die in your head wasn't something basic training prepared you for – but she was usually pretty compulsive about locking her door.

"So … how ya doin', Carter?" her CO asked, sitting down opposite her and putting his feet up on the coffee table. Jack O'Neill could go anywhere and instantly make himself at home – it was one of his peculiarities.

"Feet off," she said automatically.

A thick eyebrow rose.

"Sir," she added.

He put his feet down – Sara O'Neill had evidently trained him well – and looked at her consideringly. "You're looking better," he commented. "Think you'll be coming back soon?"

Sam tensed. She did miss going through the 'gate with SG-1, but was uncomfortable with the stares she was still getting from the rest of the base personnel. She'd lived through a Goa'uld possession – that was unknown. "Soon," she temporized.

"Carter … Sam … I know what it's like," the Colonel said.

She snorted. When had he last been possessed by a parasite?

"Okay; I don't know what being Goa'ulded is like," he added. "But I can guess what you're feeling – you feel different, out of control, as if someone else is yanking your strings."

Sam nodded mutely. Maybe he did understand.

"I won't lie to you; you will have changed," the Colonel continued. "Imprisonment does that. But you learn to live with it, and sometimes you can go days without thinking about it."

Sam was startled – that was quite possibly the longest speech she'd ever heard her taciturn CO make. On an impulse, she reached over and grabbed his hand. "Thank you, sir," she said.

He squeezed her fingers gently, then let go. "So … whatcha doing?"

"Uh … nothing, sir. Why?" He wore a gleam of mischief that didn't bode well for whoever the victim was.

"You're going to help me TP Ferretti's car," he told her.

"Oh, I am, am I?" Sam said with her own raised eyebrow, but was unable to resist the little-boy gleam in the Colonel's eyes.

"Yep." He waved a hand outside. "I have a hundred rolls in my truck, and it's past 2200 – perfect conditions."

"I don't know, sir …". Sam was doubtful. "Aren't we a bit old?"

The Colonel beamed suddenly at her, showing straight white teeth and wonderful dimples. "You're never too old to act like an idiot, Carter." Then he eyed her suspiciously. "Please tell me you've TP'd before."

"You want me to lie to you, sir?" Sam shot back.

And now her CO sighed. "Oh, for cryin' out loud …". He grabbed her hands and pulled her off of the couch. "Tonight, Carter; you are gonna be immature. And that's an order!"

"Yes, sir!" She aimed a sloppy salute at him, but allowed him to drag her to his truck. Maybe a bit of silliness would help shake her out of the Jolinar-blues.

The man beamed again. "I'm so proud!" he declared dramatically, making her laugh.

Then he leaned over and touched his lips quickly to hers.

It wasn't a kiss – was barely even a brush – but Sam felt something tingle in response to the chaste caress. Things that shouldn't be tingling in a CO/2IC relationship.

No; they were more than just CO/2IC. They were comrades, friends.

That was all they could ever be, and that was fine with Sam. After all, it wasn't like she was going to fall in love with him, right?

Right?


	15. Little Things

_**Categories: POV, Romance**_

* * *

It's not just the heroism, the nobility, the honor.

Nor is it solely the handsome face, tall strong body and beautiful eyes.

It's the little things.

The automatic selection of my favorite foods in the commissary.

The stashing of Godivas in my backpack for that time of the month.

The shared grins and silent communication.

The strong shoulder to lean on.

The never-ending supply of batteries for my laptop.

The snarky comments to make me laugh at oh, so inappropriate times.

The warm hugs, face dipping into my neck.

His quiet faith and confidence in me.

It's the little things that made me fall in love with Jack O'Neill.

And it's those little things that have brought me to where I am now: looking into his beautiful eyes as the preacher joins our hands in marriage.


	16. Insomnia and id

_**Categories: Humor, UST**_

_**Season 7 (before Pete!)**_

**_For some reason, I can't get the reply option to work for my reviews. So ... a big honkin' THANK YOU to all who've reviewed so far._**

* * *

_Try counting sheep, Sam_, she thought. She squeezed her eyes fiercely shut and visualized sheep leaping over a fence.

But then her overactive – warped – mind skewed the images so that she now saw lots of Asgard leaping over the Stargate.

And now she started giggling.

"Carter …," the man beside her growled, sitting up in his sleeping bag, hair all on end. "What is the rule about giggling, again?"

"Sorry, sir," Sam apologized meekly.

Colonel O'Neill eyed her suspiciously – as they'd gotten to know each other better, she felt more free to be herself. "No you're not," he said.

No. She wasn't.

She suffered from insomnia on rare occasions, but had previously been able to go to the gym or her lab. Now … stuck on B7R 2YZ, her usual outlets were denied her.

So, that left her with only one recourse – bugging someone.

Daniel had been her first choice, but nothing short of detonating a brick of C4 would wake him.

And Teal'c. He was a good man, and she cared for him a lot, but he wasn't much on conversation.

Hence her attempt to browbeat her superior officer into staying awake.

While she'd been cogitating, said superior officer had fallen back asleep, snoring quietly into his bag.

She was thinking headlock.

She sighed again and flopped around in her sleeping bag, making as much noise as she could.

"Ah, fer cryin' out loud …," came the gravelly grumpy tones of her victim. He sat up and gave her his best Jack O'Neill eyeball of doom.

Funny … It had lost its effect on her after seven years. Teal'c had never been affected, nor had Daniel. It had worked on Jonas for a while, but even he'd come to see the soft center to the Colonel's hard-ass image.

He raked a hand through his hair and Sam's fingers itched to smooth it. Of all his many assets, and she fixated on the hair.

She was warped; she could accept that.

"I'm awake," the Colonel grumbled, squinting at her. "So … whatcha wanna talk about?"

Sam shrugged; she'd not expected him to cave so easily. "Uh … you choose," she said.

"Snoopy."

He was warped.

"Snoopy?" As in that dancing beagle?

"Yep." He pointed upward. "That constellation – if you kinda squint and tilt to the left – looks like Snoopy."

"Oh, brother," Sam mumbled. How could a man his age with his experiences be so child-like?

Yet she couldn't deny that it was part of his charm. Just another facet to this endlessly complex man.

His hands landed suddenly on her head, tilting it. "Now look," he insisted. "And remember to squint."

Yeah. He'd gone way beyond warped.

The man was now officially in loopy land.

"So … can ya see it?"

"Sorry, sir; I can't," Sam lied.

The Colonel looked like she'd run over a box full of puppies.

Heh; she was evil.

"Fine," he sulked, bringing his arms up to fold over his chest.

_Awww, he's adorable._

Another thing about Sam Carter when suffering insomnia; she tended to become dominated by her id. And that id didn't recognize the reasons why she could never acknowledge her attraction to this man.

In fact, her id was very vocal in acquainting her with Colonel Jack O'Neill's finer qualities.

The soft silver hair.

The deep brown eyes.

The tall firm-muscled frame.

Slim, restless fingers.

Long dimples.

The delicious crease between his brows.

_God; he's sexy._

Oh yeah; id was having a field day in the mush that now formed Sam's sleep-deprived brain.

"Carter? Hey, Carter!" Those slim restless fingers waggled in front of her eyes. "You still with us?"

"Uhh, yes sir; sorry," Sam blurted out, suddenly being overtaken by a wide yawn. "Wow; I think I might be getting tired."

Her CO rolled his eyes. "Finally!" he groused. He wriggled back down into his bag until all she could see of him was the untidy silver hair. "By the way, Carter …," he added.

"Yes, sir?" She followed his example.

He smirked. "Nice bed-head, Major."

Sam quickly sent her id back to its tiny cage. id pouted then got in one final parting shot.

"Nice butt, Colonel."

And Sam Carter – plus id! – finally went to sleep. With a big honkin' smug smirk on their lips.


	17. Inferno

_**Categories: Romance, slight smut**_

_Thanks for all the great reviews – over 100 so far! Woo-hoo!_

* * *

Sam Carter had never done well in the heat.

She sighed heavily as she entered her house very late one Saturday night in July. She was worn out after several long unproductive days, and to top it all off, the air conditioning in her car had died.

So she was now tired, hot and crabby.

She slung her purse onto her rocker and debated the merits of a late-night snack before heading to bed. A cool shower first, she decided.

Padding into the en suite, she gladly stripped off her clothes, then switched on the shower, holding her hand under the spray until satisfied with the temperature. She stepped in and enjoyed the cool water massaging away the strains of the last week.

"Room for two in there?"

Sam nearly shrieked, but caught herself just in time. "Hi," she said, moving slightly to allow the newcomer to step in with her.

Brown eyes, disheveled hair, sweat-slick skin, and strong toned body. She chewed her lip. _Hmmmm … to jump or not to jump; that is the question._

Jack took the decision out of her hands. He soaped up her sponge, then drew it gently over her body before attending to his own toilette. "Miss me?" he inquired.

Sam was absorbed in watching the lucky bubbles make their way down his body. "Hmmm? Oh! Yes, of course!" she assured him.

He quirked an eyebrow as if he knew the smutty turn her mind had taken – sometimes he was darn spooky – but didn't call her on it.

Shower finished, they wrapped up in toweling robes and Sam let out a gargantuan yawn. "Bed-time for you, Sleeping Beauty!" Jack said, patting her terry-clad butt gently.

She returned the favor, lingering a little longer than necessary on the taut muscles. She might be tired, but she was no longer crabby. And it had been weeks since she'd last seen him.

"Sleeping can wait," she told the man, shrugging out of her robe and divesting him of his. "We've got lost time to make up for."

Sam Carter had never done well in the heat. But when it came to the human inferno that was Jack O'Neill …?

Burn, baby, burn!


	18. Abandon Hope

_**Challenge word: Abandon**_

_

* * *

__Abandon hope, all ye who enter here._

That phrase flashed through Jack O'Neill's mind as he glanced around the territory, his deceptively casual gaze taking in everything about his new surroundings.

Looking for hostiles, unexplained anomalies, reminding himself to watch his six …

And a certain someone else's … very attractive six too!

_Nope; not the right time, O'Neill_, he scolded himself. There was a time and a place for gaping at Sam Carter's assets, and this wasn't one of them.

By his side, Sam Carter snickered. "Relax, Jack," she said, squeezing his hand. "It's just a Lamaze class."


	19. What's In A Name

_**Category: Romance, Humor, Thoughts**_

_**Seasons: Between 9 and 10.**_

_**Spoiler: Camelot (S9)**_

* * *

Sam cracked open an eyelid and looked around the main bedroom of this little cabin, her cyclopean gaze alighting on a sock.

A dark blue sock that was way too big to be hers.

Paired incongruously with a white cotton bra.

That was definitely hers.

She giggled softly and chose to blame it on the time she'd spent in EVA near the supergate.

"No giggling, Colonel," the true cause of her current euphoria said gruffly.

She cracked open the other eye.

And giggled again.

Cause, really, how could she take that gruffness seriously when he was lying next to her, brown eyes sleepy and hair standing up at five billion insane angles?

Oh yeah. And naked too.

"Oy!" Jack clapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. "It's a good thing you're hot, Carter."

They'd spent hours ravishing each other, and he still called her Carter. Should she be pissed? She couldn't decide.

"Sa-am; you're thinking again," the man accused.

So, he did recall her name at other times than orgasmic bliss. Good to know.

She allowed her eyes to drift downward, over the broad shoulders, strong chest and firm flanks.

Nice. Very, very nice.

And all hers.

"Samantha …".

Oooh. And now the purring of the full name. She blinked at him, distracted. She'd been thinking about … something.

"Never mind," she said, sliding her hand round his neck. "It doesn't matter."

And as their bodies melded in the throes of round four, she found she didn't mind the gravelly groan of "Carter."

After all; what was in a name?


	20. Incorrigible

_**Categories: Humor, UST**_

_**Notes: Set anytime between S3 and S8, excluding S6**_

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Samantha Carter sat up with a heavy sigh. Why was it that the one time she wanted to sleep she couldn't?

Peeking out of the tent, she saw the shadowed form of her CO sitting on a log conducting his watch. He always took the middle watch as it caused the most chaos in the body clock.

She crawled out of the tent and made her way over to him, glancing idly at the piece of paper he held. "Crossword, sir?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," he returned, evincing no surprise at her sudden appearance. Despite his lackadaisical mien, he had panther-like reflexes and missed nothing. He eyed her thoughtfully. "Can't sleep, huh?"

"No, sir," she groused. "Brain won't shut down."

He gave a soft huff of laughter. "I'd be surprised if that brain of yours ever shuts down!" he accused.

"Sometimes it does," Sam protested.

"Hah," he mumbled. "Carter; you were babbling on about Planck's Constant last night."

"And you recognized that … how?" she shot back. She'd stopped buying his dumb act a long time ago.

The Colonel coughed. "Anyway … Wanna do one of my crosswords?" He gave her that lopsided grin that … absolutely did not make her insides turn cartwheels.

"Okay, sir." She settled herself more comfortably and accepted the puzzle and a spare pen.

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**Three days later:**

Just one answer left. That was all she had. Then she would finally be able to wipe the ever-constant smirk from his face.

He'd been taunting her for the last two days, stating that he knew the answer for 13 down. He seemed determined to make her ask him.

She was equally determined that she wouldn't. She was a Carter. And Carters never quit.

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**Two days later:**

"Major Carter," General Hammond said quietly, jerking her attention back to the pre-mission briefing.

She blushed and tried to ignore her CO's smug smirk. "Sorry, sir; I'm a little distracted," she admitted.

"We noticed, Carter," the Colonel said. "Something on your mind?"

He had the gall to droop his eyelid in a lazy wink, and she seriously debated the merits of kicking him in the shin.

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**Five days later:**

"So … you ready to quit, Carter?"

She jammed her cap onto her head and glared daggers into the man's back as he sauntered up the ramp and into the wormhole.

Then she set her jaw and followed him through, wishing all kinds of bad luck on him. Maybe she'd yank his spark plugs. Or … replace all his 'Mad' magazines with 'Scientific American'.

Heh.

"Why keep torturing yourself?" her CO purred as she fell into step beside him. "All you have to do is admit I am the king of the crossword and I'll give you that tiny five-letter word."

Sam clamped her lips shut on the urge to tell her CO to shove his tiny five-letter word up a three-letter portion of his anatomy. She wasn't ready to be busted back down to Captain.

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**Two weeks later:**

"No way." She stared at her CO, who was wearing the biggest shit-eating grin she'd seen in a long time.

"Way," he retorted childishly.

"That isn't even a word!"

The Colonel tsked at her before picking up her new electron microscope and fiddling with it. "Dear me, Carter; who knew you were such a sore loser?"

Sam closed her eyes, praying to whatever deity was up there laughing their ass off for patience. "Sir; that microscope cost over five thousand dollars."

"Your point, Carter?" He set the microscope down with a thump and she winced.

_No way is that a real word!_, she fumed to herself. She debated asking Daniel but didn't quite trust him not to be on the Colonel's side for once. His baby blue eyes and round glasses gave him a boy-next-door sweetness that belied his inner evil streak.

"Pay up, Major." Her CO waggled his fingers in a 'give' gesture.

She snorted. "Not likely, sir." Then spotted General Hammond strolling past. She knew he'd spent some time in that part of the world – maybe he'd know.

She darted out, hoping he wouldn't think her crazy. Well, any crazier than she'd appeared over the last few weeks. "Sir; you wouldn't happen to know an Afrikaans word for hemp, would you?"

"Major?"

"Crossword," the Colonel piped up cheerily.

"I see." General Hammond regarded her as if she had a couple screws loose, then sighed. "Dagga," he said.

It really was a word? She didn't even have to look at her CO; she could hear that smug smirk from here! "Ah." She cleared her throat. "Thank you, sir," she said politely.

Hammond gave her another measuring look, then moved on.

"Pay up, Major," her CO taunted once more.

Sam groaned and went back into her lab, dug out a fifty and slapped it a little too hard into his palm. "There you go, sir." _And I hope you choke on it._

"Why, thank you. Always a pleasure, Carter!" He made a great show of kissing the folded bill before putting it in his back pocket. "I'll be doing crosswords again tonight if you feel like joining me," he said.

She wondered what he'd do if she slapped him upside the head, but chose the wiser course. With gritted teeth she went back to her laptop and opened up the statistical probability study she'd been running. "I think I'll pass, sir," she said lightly.

"Ah, c'mon, Carter; lighten up! You can't be expected to know everything!" the Colonel retorted. "Do I know or care anything about science? Nope. You're a science genius – I don't expect linguistics from you too."

"You're not a linguist either, sir," she pointed out. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and bounced lightly. "Are you, sir?"

"Y'know; I could go for cake." The man pushed himself away from the door jamb in a fluid motion. "Kommt mit mir, Carter?"

"Uhm … okay!" She was kinda hungry, and so preceded him out. Then stopped short, causing him to nearly plow into her. "What did you say?"

"It was just German, Carter," he said innocently. Then added in perfect Russian; "It's not like I was speaking Goa'uld."

Sam shook her head. The man was incorrigible. "I loathe you," she muttered.

He clapped her shoulder. "Nah; you love me really," he teased.

She smiled as she stepped into the elevator. Yeah; she did. God help her; she did.


	21. Turnabout

_**Categories: Humor, UST**_

**_Notes: A sequel to 'Incorrigible', but you don't need to have read that to understand this. Just know that in 'Incorrigible', Jack and Sam got involved in a big ol' feud about a crossword. However, if you really want to read 'Incorrigible', I certainly won't stop you! Meh-heh._**

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Smug SOB.

That should be the man's middle name.

John J. Smug SOB O'Neill.

It had been several weeks since the crossword from hell and they'd declared a temporary truce.

But then, about a week ago, he'd brought in another crossword and offered to go triple or nothing.

There really was a fine line between love and hate.

Not that she loved him. Not at all.

_Yeah, right, Sam; you just keep telling yourself that._

Clutching the completed crossword tightly, she rapped on her CO's door. "Sir?" she called.

Nothing.

She turned the handle and was spectacularly unsurprised when the door opened. For someone with an almost supernatural sense for danger out in the field, he was charmingly lackadaisical about his home security.

"Sir?" she called again.

Still nothing.

And now she was worried. She'd called him earlier, and told him she'd finished (with a bit of a smug SOB in her tone), and he'd demanded proof. Told her to 'haul ass' (his words; the man was such a charmer) to his house ASAP.

She opened her jacket and removed her Beretta, looking for burglars or other miscreants. Or any of the long list of people who Jack O'Neill had pissed off during his life. Of course, if there were burglars, miscreants, or honked-off people, they'd know she was here by now.

D'oh!

Nevertheless, she walked stealthily around the small, surprisingly charming house. Then got to his bedroom.

She was a red-blooded woman and he was an attractive (okay; really attractive) man. Of course she'd wondered what his bedroom was like. It seemed she was going to find out.

Ignoring the girly squee-ing coming from somewhere in her brain (maybe she was spending too much time with Cassie), she opened the door and walked in.

She was not prepared for what she saw.

Jack O'Neill in black knitted jockies, one gray sock and battered Air Force Academy tee shirt, with headphones clamped to his ears, singing and dancing.

Badly.

She was torn between admiring his muscled six so nicely displayed for her benefit and hysterical laughter at his performance.

The hysterical laughter won out.

The man jerked around, then his eyes went wide and he ripped the phones off his ears. "Carter!" he exclaimed, blushing.

He blushed! God, he was adorable.

Sam waved her hand feebly, trying desperately to swallow her laughter. "S … sir," she got out. "You … you didn't come to the door."

"Ah … yeah," he muttered. "You're kinda early."

"You did say ASAP," she reminded him, her blue eyes widening innocently.

"Carter?"

"Yes, sir?"

"How much to never tell anyone about …". He waved his hand at his attire – or lack thereof.

"Oh, you couldn't afford it," Sam retorted.

"Samantha …"

Ooooooooh, the full name.

She blinked and forced herself to focus. "Mmmm … yeah?"

"You're evil," he told her.

Sam snickered. "But you love me, anyway."

"Yep."

And the man gave her the biggest smug-SOB smirk in his entire repertoire as she nearly swallowed her own tongue.

She loathed him.

_Yeah, right, Sam; you just keep telling yourself that._


	22. Ceasefire

_**Categories: Romance, Humor**_

_**Author's Notes: A sequel to 'Turnabout', which was a sequel to 'Incorrigible'. Eeeek! Set during S9 before 'Beachhead'.**_

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Samantha Carter growled when the ringing phone interrupted her calculations. Phones and base eight math were not a good combination.

Unfortunately, she had never been able to ignore a ringing phone. With a heavy sigh, she snatched up the receiver. "Carter."

"Whatcha doin'?"

Oh, fabulous. Major General Jack O'Neill, Head of Homeworld Security and a five year old trapped in an adult's body, was bored. Out of long habit, Sam moved her more delicate equipment out of reach before recalling that he was now miles away. And that she was in her own house. "Working, sir," she said pointedly. "You?"

"Don't think I didn't get that subtle hint, Carter," General O'Neill replied. "So … ya get my latest fax?"

Oy. Since their respective transfers less than a month previous, he'd been torturing her on a regular basis with the resumption of the crossword war. Not just any old crosswords, though. Crosswords that seemed to be hone specifically in the areas in which she had less interest – history, art, literature – and in which he had suddenly seemed to become some kind of savant.

"Carter; stop rubbing your forehead, take some aspirin, put that laptop away and go through the crossword with me."

Okay; now he was getting spooky. Sam's hand dropped guiltily from her forehead. "How did you …?" she spluttered.

The General chuckled. "I've known you a long time, Sam – coming up nine years."

Sam growled again. "Now you're making me feel my age," she complained.

Another chuckle came over the line. "Your age? I can barely remember bein' your age," he shot back. "You seem to forget; I'm nearly old enough to be your father."

"Only if you were extremely precocious." Sam noted absently that the 'sir' and 'Carter' seemed to have gone out of the encounter. "Were you extremely precocious?"

"So not tellin'," Jack said.

There was a knock on the door, and Sam rolled her eyes. Coming up for nine at night and some idiot was still trying to hawk things? Well, they could forget it; she wasn't in the mood to humor them.

Instead, she reached into her pocket and dug out the battered crossword. "I'm stuck on 19 down," she admitted, then wondered if a smirk could translate through a phone wire. If anyone could manage it, she thought, Jack O'Neill could.

DING-DONG.

DING-DONG. DING-DONG. DING-DONG. DING-DONG. DING-DONG. DING-DONG. DING-DONG. DING-DONG. DING-DONG. DING-DONG. DING-DONG.

Another growl emitted from her throat.

"Carter; were you growling?"

"Yeah," she said. "Some moron's banging on the door. I suppose I'd better go answer it. Hold on."

"Kay," he replied amiably.

Sam put the phone on silent, then went to the door, muttering imprecations about the soon-to-be-dead doorbell-leaner. "What?" she practically snarled.

"Wow." Brown eyes blinked rapidly at her. "Love you too, Carter."

Jack O'Neill was standing outside her doorway. Dressed all in black and hair sticking up insanely from the damp.

He looked fabulous.

"Jack?" she squeaked. Still no sir, she noted.

"So; stuck on 19 down?" And now she could see the sexy smirk pulling at his lips.

She grabbed him by the collar and hauled him into the hallway. "Shut up, you smug SOB," she said, and fastened her lips to his.


	23. Addiction

_**Categories: Romance, Humor**_

_**Author Notes: Set shortly after 'Ethon'.**_

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Jack O'Neill, Major General in the US Air Force and Head of Homeworld Security, skulked out of his office onto the balcony using all the skills he'd honed during his years in Special Forces.

Then pulled out his booty with an air of triumph. Here, he could indulge as much as he wanted without Captain Amy Roberts – Napoleonic Power Monger #2, he thought affectionately – snipping at his heels.

He put the luscious morsel to his lips and dug out his lighter. Bliss.

"General O'Neill?"

Damn. Busted.

The little Napoleon had evidently enlisted his aide to do her evil in her absence. Captain Tom Wilkinson was a big guy, who wore a permanent scowl and had most of his subordinates peeing in their pants. But he was firmly wrapped around the tiny little fingers of Captain Roberts.

Jack smirked to himself – the man was completely whipped – then regretfully put the cigarette and lighter back in his pocket before going back into his office.

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He couldn't remember exactly when he'd started smoking again – not long after the whole Hathor Goa'ulding him thing – and Doc Fraiser had quickly gotten on his case.

He knew the drill. They were nasty. They stunk. They'd take years off his life. But, God, how he loved them.

He managed to quit again for several more years. Then came his stay at Resort Ba'al … And he'd gotten more lectures from the tiny Doc; along the lines of replacing one addiction with another.

But this time he had no intention of quitting. He'd been alone the first time he'd gone cold turkey – no-one knew of the horrible moods, the shaking, the headaches of withdrawal. His team were the poor unfortunates inflicted with him during his second round. They'd been great, though.

And now he was alone again. He didn't have the support mechanism that, much as it galled him, he did need to quit. So … he wasn't gonna.

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**Two weeks later:**

"So …," Jack said, jumping lightly off the bed and grimacing at the crack in his knee, "what's the verdict, Doc?"

Captain Amy Roberts smiled up at the tall handsome man. "Blood pressure and heart-rate are good, cholesterol levels … could do with a little reduction." General O'Neill grimaced, and Amy put up a hand. "It's an age thing, General," she said. "You needed those calories when you were in the field, but now you're not …"

"I know, I know," General O'Neill grumbled. "You don't want me turning into a fat old fart."

"Oh, you're still in good shape, sir," Amy hastened to assure him – funny how even one of the most heroic, if unsung, soldiers of the world still needed assurance. "But you could stand to lose a few." She tapped him on the chest. "And I really wish you'd give up smoking."

The General smirked. "Hey; the first time I quit smoking, I put on ten pounds – you want that to happen again?"

The first time? Amy shook her head, trying to ignore the way his roguish smirk lit up his brown eyes. Yes; he might be her superior officer and twenty years her senior, but she wasn't blind. "I'll take that risk, sir," she said. She pulled out a box of nicotine patches. "These should help with the physical cravings," she added.

The General grimaced and allowed her to affix one to his upper arm. "Fine; I'll try," he said. "But I'm blaming the next coupla months on you!"

Better a grouchy General than a dead General.

"Captain?"

Whoops; did she say that out loud? Amy flushed lightly, but was determined that this particular grouchy General wasn't going to get the best of her. She'd worked at the SGC a couple years ago, and had learned how to handle a rambunctious then-Colonel O'Neill from Major Fraiser. "Get dressed, sir," she said, proffering the box. "You'll get your blood work results tomorrow."

"Okay. And … thanks, Doc. I know you're just lookin' out for us all."

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**Three weeks later:**

"GO AWAY!" Jack bellowed as the knocking on his front door persisted. Obstinate little bastard, whoever it was.

"Sir; it's me," came from the door.

Since when did nicotine withdrawal induce hallucinations? "Carter?" he called cautiously, not really wanting to know if he'd finally flipped.

"Sir … please! Let me in! It's freezing out here."

Jack got up and unlocked his door, then flung it open to reveal a bedraggled and thoroughly miserable-looking Lieutenant Colonel. "Carter! Geez; sorry." He cupped her elbow in his big hand and drew her sodden form into the bathroom. "Ah … wait a minute," he added.

He dashed into his bedroom and pulled out an old tee shirt and sweats, then went back into the en suite, turning on the shower. He tugged the new toweling robe out of its plastic wrapping and hung it on a peg. There. "Carter; have a shower, get warmed up. I'll put your clothes in the dryer."

Sam looked at him with big eyes that bore a suspicious redness. Her nose was also red, but he suspected more due to a crying jag than the cold weather. The recent loss of the Prometheus had to have hit her hard, though he couldn't fathom what had brought her all the way here when she had Daniel and Teal'c back home.

"Sam," he said more gently, "go on. Soak for a bit; I'll make you something to eat."

"Okay," she said, then lifted up a little to brush her lips to his cheek. "Thanks, Jack."

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While Carter thawed in his shower – Carter. In his shower – Jack tried not to think about Carter in his shower. Instead he pulled together the fixings for a light omelet, sans beer, and a good old-fashioned chicken soup. Nothing like a shot of Jewish penicillin for curing your woes.

Carter appeared in his kitchen looking much warmer. Bundled in his big robe, her skin scrubbed clean, she looked fresh, appealing and like a goddamn kid.

Christ; when the hell had he gotten so old?

She peered over his shoulder at the omelet. "That smells good, Jack," she said, giving him a shy smile.

Jack again, huh? He could get used to this. "Tastes good, too," he said immodestly. He grimaced slightly. "Even if I am using half-fat cheese."

Carter laughed softly. "I heard Captain Roberts had put you on a diet."

Jack rolled his eyes. Why did he tell Daniel anything? The guy had such a big mouth. "Yeah … well. It's an age thing," he said gruffly. "Now I'm not in the field anymore …"

Carter nodded her head. "It happens to us all," she said. "It just … took you longer than most."

"What?"

"Really, Jack; how many people are still on active duty in their fifties? You're about the only one I can think of who did it."

He wasn't going to smirk. He wasn't going to …

He smirked. "Yes, well … Someone had to keep you in line, Carter; I couldn't leave all the hard work to Daniel and T, now could I?"

A small fist landed hard on his upper arm. "Smart-ass."

"I do my best," Jack retorted, hiding his wince. He'd forgotten what a punch she could pack. He dished up the soup and omelet then nudged her hip with his own. "Have a seat, Carter; dig in."

Carter did as she was told, then aimed a big huge Carter smile at him. "This is good," she offered.

"Don't sound so surprised," he said, feigning hurt. "I can do more than char meat on a barbecue, you know."

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**Several hours later:**

"So … Sam."

Sam looked over at him from where she sat curled into his couch, skin and hair glowing in the firelight. "Jack?"

"Not that I'm not glad to see ya, but …"

"Why am I here?" Sam heaved a sigh. "So many people, Jack."

Jack grimaced. "Tough day." Yes, ladies and gentlemen; presenting Jack O'Neill, Master of Understatement!

"Yeah." Another sigh came from the beautiful woman curled up not five feet from him. "I just … I had to get away. General Landry gave us a week's leave, and I couldn't stand the idea of moping around at home."

No. Sam Carter wasn't the type to stay at home. She tended to spend most of her leaves in her lab, poking at weird esoteric bits of machinery. "No cool toys in your lab, huh?" he teased lightly.

She smiled at him. "I … wanted to see you again," she admitted. "It's not been the same without you." And yet another sigh. "Don't get me wrong; General Landry and Colonel Mitchell are good men, but …"

"I know," Jack said roughly. "I miss you guys, too. But being the CO there was driving me nuts. I can do more for you guys here than I ever could there."

"Except … be there."

Ah, hell. Jack got up and sat down next to her, then put an arm round her shoulders. "C'mere."

She dropped her head onto his shoulder, leaning into his hug, then suddenly slipped her arms round his waist, returning the hug tenfold. "This is why I'm here," she said. "No-one hugs me the way you do."

"Hey; it's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it!" he replied lightly. Hugging Carter was nice – very, very nice – but he wasn't going to read anything into it.

Sam shook her golden head, then he felt her giggle into his neck. "Smart-ass," she said.

Oh God. Sam Carter's lips. On his neck. He coughed quickly, trying to mask his discomfort. "Sam …"

And now she was kissing his neck.

"Sam …," he croaked ineffectually.

"Jack." Her head shot up and she skewered him with her big eyes. "I don't want to think; I just want to feel."

"No; Carter. It's not right." He pushed at her gently and stood up. "I won't take advantage of your distress."

Sam smiled. "I know. You wouldn't be the man I loved if you did," she said.

Loved? Hold the phone! "What?" he croaked again.

"You heard me," she said. "We've been flirting for months now; I even blew off Agent Barrett for the promise of 'us'." And suddenly his robe puddled around her feet. "There is going to be an us?"

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**The next day:**

"Uh." Jack scowled at his computer, then thumped the screen hard as the blue screen of death taunted him. "Stupid useless piece of junk!"

"Jack!" A soft hand on his arm stopped him mid-thump. "It's okay; as long as you backed up, I can restore all your files."

"Uh." Jack growled at the taunting machine, then felt something sticky adhere to his upper arm. "Mmmm … nicotine patch," he crooned sarcastically in his best Homer Simpson.

"Grumpy old man," Sam said lightly, then slipped into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Anything I can do to make you feel better?"

He appraised her. Cheeks flushed from her shower, golden hair damp and tousled and – oh yeah – completely naked. Life was sweet. "Lemme think about it." He paused for about two seconds. "Thought about it," he added, then crushed his lips to hers.

God; she should be listed as a Class A narcotic. One night with her and he was already addicted.

She mewled into his mouth and they got up and dashed hand in hand to his bedroom. Oh yeah. He was definitely addicted to Sam Carter. But this was one addiction he so would not be trying to overcome!


	24. Fallout

__

_**Categories: Drama,**_ UST, Hurt/Comfort

**_Author's Notes: I've seen quite a few post-Broca fics, but none of the ones I've read mentioned anything about the two men who fell out of the briefing room window. This is my attempt to address that._**

* * *

Captain Samantha Carter smiled uneasily at Colonel Jack O'Neill as they stepped out of the wormhole onto the ramp of the embarkation room. She'd done her best to forget about her attack on him and hoped that he'd done the same. That hope had been dashed by his jibe about the 'sweet little tank top'. 

God, why him? Yes, he was strong, charismatic, and good-looking. But he was fifteen years older than her and, oh yes; lest she forget, her CO! What was it with her and the lunatic fringe?

He returned the smile with a wicked smirk. "No harm, no foul, Sam," he muttered before greeting General Hammond. "Mission successful, sir," he offered. "The good folks are dishing out the cure as we speak."

"Good," General Hammond replied, coughing uneasily and adjusting his collar. Sam vaguely remembered hearing that he'd also been afflicted with the caveman virus and involuntarily shivered, remembering the officer who had fallen out of the window to his death not fifteen yards from where she stood now. The other had survived his injuries, but was paralyzed from the waist down – likely permanently.

She hadn't known the two young men very well – both being what Colonel O'Neill pejoratively dubbed 'jarheads' and very recent transfers to this base – but it was such a senseless loss.

The Colonel's slim fingers clasped her shoulder in a brief comforting gesture before he addressed himself to the General once more. "Sir; about Matthews …"

General Hammond's own eyes shifted over to the site of the tragedy. "I've notified Matthews' family," he said gruffly. "The memorial will be held day after tomorrow at Arlington."

"I'd like to be there, sir," O'Neill pressed, nodding to Colonel Makepeace. "Pay my respects."

The Marine Colonel looked surprised, but then returned the nod. Times like these tended to transcend petty inter-service rivalries.

"Of course, Colonel," Hammond said.

"I'll go as well, sir," Sam said, wishing she'd gotten to know the young man. She'd been pissed when he'd hit on her a couple weeks ago, and had ignored his stumbling apologies after Colonel Makepeace had read him the riot act. She'd dismissed him as 'just another jarhead'.

"If civilians can be present, I'll be there, General," Daniel said.

"And I also, General Hammond," Teal'c, the final member of SG-1, added stoically. "I wish to pay my respects to the young warrior."

Despite his alien heritage, sometimes Teal'c was the most human person Sam had ever known. She hadn't known him for very long, but she'd learned he wasn't just a stoic scary Jaffa. She'd witnessed his stunned male reaction to her in that stupid blue dress and his guilt over Daniel's recent kidnapping. Hell, she'd seen him defy his god because he believed in Colonel O'Neill! That took guts.

Makepeace cleared his throat. "Damn," he mumbled. "We'd … ah … we'd be honored," he said.

Hammond cleared his own throat, perhaps touched by the sentiment too. "Permission granted," he said.

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**Two days later:**

Sam watched as the casket was covered over and Tom Matthews' family scattered to their grief. Her gaze shifted to Colonel O'Neill, whose eyes were hidden by shades, but whose jaw was set. He'd been tense for several hours now; perhaps not surprising, but there seemed to be something … personal about this tension.

Uncaring of protocol, she touched his arm gently. "Sir," she murmured.

"I'm … okay, Sam," he said, the roughness of his voice giving the lie to his claim. "It's just … no-one should have to outlive their kid."

"No, sir," she replied, not sure what to say to that stark declaration.

A young man, so similar in appearance to Matthews he had to be a brother, approached them, dressed in his Marine Corps Class A's. "I … wanted to thank you for being here today, sirs," he said to the Colonel and Sam. "I have to admit … we weren't expecting high-ranking Air Force officers at a Marine private's funeral."

The Colonel took off his sunglasses. "Tom Matthews – regardless of rank or service – was a good man," he said gruffly. "He was taken too soon."

"Yeah," the young man agreed. He shifted nervously. "I know you can't tell me exactly what happened, but … was it quick?"

"It was," Sam said, glad she could give him the truth in this instance. "He died instantly."

"That's … better, then." The young man shifted again. "Better that than a long painful death."

Beside her, Sam could feel the Colonel shifting restlessly. "Private; will it be all right if I … talk to your mother?"

"Uh … yes, sir!"

"Thank you." The Colonel headed over to Matthews' mother, his long-legged stride allowing him to reach her quickly.

Sam saw him visibly brace himself before touching the mother's shoulder gently and removing his sunglasses. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but it evidently reached the grieving mother, for she clasped his hand tightly in what looked like her own gesture of comfort.

She knew the Colonel had demons. What they were, she had no idea, but she knew that they haunted him, belying the wry, sarcastic façade he put up. He'd been in Special Forces for a long time, had seen things, done things, that would give anyone nightmares. Yet there seemed to be something … personal about his current grief.

But he was an intensely private man. He would never bare his soul to her – a junior officer and someone so much younger. Who did he go to for comfort? Did he have parents, a wife, a family? Even after all these weeks serving under him, she didn't know.

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**Several weeks later (after Cold Lazarus):**

"Receiving SG-1's IDC!" the technician announced. "It's Colonel O'Neill!"

Sam sighed slightly, recalling the look on the Colonel's face when he'd walked out of the hospital with the replica of his dead son. How was he going to be able to handle the second loss of his child?

'No-one should have to outlive their kid.' Colonel O'Neill's gruffly-spoken words from the day of Tom Matthews' funeral hit Sam anew, and she shivered, now understanding the deep grief that had driven him that day.

"Open it up," General Hammond instructed.

The iris retracted and Colonel O'Neill stepped through the event horizon and onto the lamp. His entire posture shouted of weariness, both physical and mental, yet he seemed to have shed some of the deep sorrow.

"Welcome back, Colonel," Hammond said through the mic. "Report to the Infirmary – we'll debrief in two hours."

The Colonel flipped a casual salute in acknowledgment of General Hammond's words, then turned and headed out of the embarkation room.

Sam slipped out of the control room and went to the locker room, where she had a feeling the Colonel would have gone. She paused at the door, recalling steam, firm muscles, soft lips, then set her jaw and walked into the locker room. "Colonel," she said lightly.

"Hey, Carter." The man sounded weary, but he gave her a small grin.

"Rough day."

"Yeah." He turned and regarded her with a piercing stare. "You can ask me about him, you know."

"Oh." Sam pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth. "I didn't think you'd want anyone … intruding."

"You're not intruding, Carter; I offered." He shrugged slightly. "I'm just surprised the Space Monkey held out this long – you and he are thick as thieves."

Space Monkey? The Colonel had some weird names for people, but that one took the cake! "Yes, we are, sir," Sam acknowledged. "But you and he were friends first – he respects you more than you know." She cleared her throat, wondering why she felt so uncomfortable around him. Yes, he was good looking, but so were Daniel and Teal'c, and she didn't feel this way around them! "So … the entity … was it a good likeness?"

"Damned good," the Colonel said gruffly. "I still don't know how I'm going to explain it to Sara."

Sara? Oh, his wife! "I'm sure we can get her some clearance, sir," Sam offered. "And … uh … I'll come with you. If you'd like."

The Colonel didn't smile, but his chocolate eyes warmed up. "I'd appreciate that, Carter," he said. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not the best at expressing myself."

That was true. Jack O'Neill could talk well enough about professional matters – or The Simpsons – but anything personal sent him into a complete tailspin. "You, sir?" Sam said lightly, sensing his need to distance himself. "Why, you're a silver-tongued charmer!"

The Colonel's lips twisted into something resembling his familiar smirk. "Brat," he said, looping an arm around her neck and delivering a very gentle noogie.

Sam giggled, twisting free of his loose grasp. "I do my best, sir," she said. "Anyway, you'd better report to the Infirmary – Doctor Fraiser will have the SFs after you."

"Ah yes … the tiny queen of giant needles." The Colonel gave a sigh, then bent his head confidentially to Sam's. "Between you and me, Carter, that woman's far scarier than any snake-head we've come across."

"My lips are sealed, Colonel," Sam said, giggling once more at the thought of rough tough Jack O'Neill being afraid of the diminutive Janet Fraiser.

The Colonel rolled his eyes. "Oy! I shoulda never told you," he grumbled. Then he quickly brushed his lips over Sam's cheek. "Thanks, Carter," he added. "For …"

"I know," Sam replied, stunned at the sudden caress. "And you're welcome."

The Colonel left the locker room swiftly and Sam's fingers fluttered upward to touch her cheek in an adolescent gesture.

_Oh boy, Sam, are you in trouble!_


	25. Nice!

_**Category – Friendship, Romance**_

_**Content Warning – none, except for a bit of gratuitous pity for Pete. I didn't like him as he was in 'Chimera', but I kinda felt bad for him in 'Threads'. Poor heartbroken puppy!**_

_**Season – just before 9**_

_**Spoilers – general for S8 and 9**_

_**Summary – in response to Matt's word of the week challenge 'Solitude'.**_

_**Disclaimer – Don't own 'em (although I certainly wouldn't turn down a 6'2 package containing RDA!), and not making any money from 'em. **_

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Sam breathed in deeply, enjoying the quiet and solitude of this part of the world.

Her Commanding Officer had been after her for years to accompany him to his little retreat in the wilds of Northern Minnesota. And she'd finally given in.

Check that.

Former Commanding Officer.

Sam didn't know whether to be thrilled or terrified by that notion.

Aforementioned former CO had already received confirmation of his re-ass, along with a second set of shiny stars. Maybe it was weird and inappropriate, but Sam couldn't have been more proud of him.

He'd had a rough time settling into the less physically demanding role of CO of the SGC, but he'd been a lot better at it than he'd given himself credit for. His style was certainly different to General Hammond's, but Sam had to admit that she'd gotten a big kick out of the time when he'd put two argumentative ambassadors into a time-out.

Sarcastic and irrepressible, he would blow through the stuffy corridors of the Pentagon like a Class 5 tornado.

There had been no declarations between them. Jack O'Neill wasn't good at the words and, Sam knew, it was far too soon after the rush of events of the last few weeks. The Goa'uld and the Replicators had been defeated, Anubis had been sent packing, her dad had died and she'd split up with Pete.

She allowed a moment to feel sorry for Pete. After a rocky start to their relationship, he'd settled down and they'd had a lot of good times together. He was fun, puppy-dog cute, undemanding.

A safe bet.

Not like the man sitting next to her, fishing rod in hand, nodding off under his cap.

Jack O'Neill was many things, but he'd never be undemanding.

He lifted up his cap and skewered her with sleepy brown eyes. "Stop thinking so much, Sam," he said.

Oh yeah. The minute he'd received his re-ass notice, he'd demanded that she lose the 'Sir'. And he'd stopped calling her 'Carter'. Except when teasing her.

Which he was very, very good at.

"I'll try, s … Jack," Sam replied. She was having a more difficult time stopping the honorific – she'd been using it a good while longer than he'd been using 'Carter'.

She gave a slight shiver as the breeze picked up. She'd never admit it, for the SGC's physicians were always on at her to put on a little weight, but she was just a little too thin to really enjoy the cold.

But Jack O'Neill always knew. The man noticed way more than anyone would assume.

He shuffled his chair over to hers and slung an arm around her, drawing her into his warm body. "Better?" he asked.

"Mmmm," Sam replied.

He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head then recast his line. "Nice!"


	26. The Odd Couple

_**Summary: Jack thinks about him and Sam after an argument**_

_**Season: Any after 8**_

_**Spoilers: Slight references to 'Children Of The Gods', 'Fire and Water', 'Divide And Conquer'**_

_**Author's Notes: In response to this week's challenge word on the SJFics Yahoo Group– APOLOGY**_

* * *

"Oh, for God's sake; will you just grow up, Jack!" Sam yelled, her hands clenching into fists.

Jack scowled, knowing that he was in the wrong but unwilling to admit it. He was extremely pissed off after a long unproductive meeting with Woolsey and had come home ready to tear off heads.

And Sam's had been the nearest head.

Not that she ever stood for any of his crap, giving just as good as she got.

He sighed heavily, squinching his eyes shut against the migraine that threatened. "I'm gonna go out for a bit," he said gruffly. "Need some air."

"That's right; as soon as things get a bit heavy, you turn tail and run," Sam snarled. "You're such a … a coward at times."

Jack's own hands clenched into fists. He'd never hit a woman in his life, and he was damned if he'd start now. Instead, he headed back to his rented car and drove away.

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He and Sam were, he had to admit, quite possibly a very odd pairing to anyone who didn't know them.

There was a significant age gap between them for a start, although he could be very immature while she was a lot steadier in some respects.

They disagreed on much – favorite literature, TV shows, Harleys versus Indians (he just loved the hogs) – and both were stubborn and hot tempered.

He knew they had great chemistry – he'd felt the sparks fly during their first meeting, although she'd pissed him off at that time too. 'Oy; another AF feminist brat!' he recalled thinking. But there was more to a relationship than sex … Okay; really great sex.

Heh.

He'd started really caring about her – as more than a colleague – when they'd thought Daniel to be drowned. Just the memory of her beautiful blue eyes swimming with tears brought a lump to his throat, even now, so many years later.

Their relationship had gone through many highs and lows – the lowest point being during the year after the Zatarc tests. It had taken them a long time to get back on an even keel, but they'd remained one of the best, most close-knit teams at the SGC. Things had started slowly getting better and by the time they were free of the shadow of the frat regs, they were good enough friends that a more romantic relationship was no longer out of the question.

Bright lights danced in front of his eyes – quite pretty, really – and he blinked rapidly. Then pulled in quickly to someone's driveway as nausea and dizziness made themselves known.

Someone knocked on the window. "You okay, young man?" a sweet little old lady asked.

"Peachy," Jack croaked. "Sorry; this your driveway?"

"You really don't look well," the tiny old woman responded. "Migraine, dear?"

"Yeah." Jack resisted the urge to curl into a fetal ball, breathing in deeply.

"My Harry used to suffer from them," his rescuer continued. "Can I call someone to come collect you? You can't drive like that."

Jack was known for his stubbornness, but he wasn't too big to admit that Fraiser #2 was right on the ball. "My wife," he said. "Number's 593 … 593 …"

And as the world crashed in around him, he whispered "Sam … Carter."

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Jack opened his eyes, relieved to find that the world had stopped spinning, although his head was still killing him. He looked around, noting the old-fashioned décor and hand-crafted coverlet that rested over his prone body.

"Wha …?"

"Ah, hello, young man." #2 trotted into the room, followed closely by Sam. "There he is dear – he's feeling much better now."

"Hey, Sam." Jack was too tired to bear a grudge, offering her a small smile as silent apology.

"Hey, you." She sat down on the bed and brushed a tender kiss over his forehead. "I wish I'd known you were feeling like crap – I wouldn't have gone off at you the way I did."

"Nah." Jack waved a hand. "I treated you like crap – I'm surprised you didn't slug me."

His wife's cheeks went a light pink. "I wanted to," she admitted, "but I'm glad I didn't do it."

"Me too." His loving wife was also a gun-totin', ass-kickin' Colonel in the Air Force. He was stronger than her, but she could pack one helluva punch.

He looked around once more then squinted assessingly at #2. "Who are you and how did I get here?"

The little woman smiled. "My name's Mary Wilson – I live not far from you, it turns out. And my son helped bring you in – you're a big man."

Jack considered the old lady and realized that he did actually recognize her slightly. "Oh … Well, thanks," he told her. He'd chew on the 'big man' comment later.

"You're quite welcome, pet," the English woman replied, coming over and patting his hand. "Just rest a bit longer while I make you and your wife some tea." She patted Sam's hand. "Come with me, dear; leave your handsome young man to sleep for a bit."

Sam looked startled and Mary laughed. "I'm old, my dear, not dead," she pointed out.

Jack snickered. "I still got it, Sam!" he gloated.

Sam leaned over and pressed her warm moist lips against his, tongue flicking out quickly to curl around his. "Indeed," she replied lightly a la Teal'c. Then she blushed slightly. Considering that she was quite the insatiable wench, she tended to be shy about showing her love for him in public. "Okay; get some rest and then we'll go home."

"Yes, ma'am," Jack said. Then he grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently. "And … I'm sorry."

"Me too," Sam said softly. "I love you."

"Love you, too."

As the two women left, Jack allowed a smile to cross his tired features. Some might say love meant never having to say you were sorry, but sometimes an apology truly was necessary.


	27. Wrong

_**Summary: **__Dr. Sam ponders the nature of reality_

_**Spoilers: **__This is the AU Sam and Jack from 'Moebius' so therefore spoilers for that episode._

_**Author's Notes: **__In response to this week's challenge word on the SJFic Yahoo group – REALITY_

* * *

Apparently our timeline isn't the correct one. In Daniel's time, Jack O'Neill is a Brigadier General and I am a Lieutenant Colonel under his command.

Wow.

Colonel Samantha Carter is confident, tough, outgoing, attractive – all things that I have never been. She has received many citations for bravery, gets along well with her dad and seems to have everything.

Except Jack.

Apparently she and Jack were very much in love for many years but wouldn't pursue it due to their code of honor. Even after they became trapped in BC Egypt, they couldn't get past their working relationship and died without ever telling each other how they felt.

How sad.

"Whatcha doin'?" The familiar Minnesota drawl brings me out of my reverie and a pair of warm hands slide under my shirt and around my waist.

"Just thinking," I reply, tilting my head to allow Jack to bestow a warm kiss on my neck.

A few weeks ago, I would've died of embarrassment at such a public display of affection, but I'd gotten a lot more confident after the way this sexy silver hottie responded to my grabbing him for a kiss.

It was so unlike me, but … I really liked him and I hadn't thought we would survive the onslaught of Ra's Jaffa.

I lean into him and watch several other couples openly making out. Although courtship is highly ritualized in this culture, once a couple become man and wife they are surprisingly open with their affections.

"You shouldn't think so much, gorgeous – you'll break my brain!" Jack teases, nibbling at my earlobe.

"Mmmm," I agree.

He gives a sharp nip that makes me squeal then snickers into my neck. "So … and I'll probably regret asking … what were you thinking about?"

"The other us – the other SG-1."

"Ah. It's hard to think of you as a Lieutenant Colonel," Jack says.

I giggle slightly. "I know – I barely know which end to put the bullets in," I agree.

The hands on my waist slip upward. "And no Lieutenant Colonel ever felt so warm and soft."

I bite back the moan as his hands explore. "Felt up a lot of Lieutenant Colonels, have we?"

"Smart ass." He bites at the juncture of my neck and shoulder, causing me to squeal once more. "What happened to my sweet little nerd who stuttered and stammered?"

"She's using the Force," I reply and am met with a blank look. "Star Wars? Jedi warriors?"

"Geek," he chides affectionately.

"Jackass."

"Brainiac."

"Overgrown flyb …"

My retort is cut off by the simple expedient of Jack's soft lips landing on mine.

And as our tongues mingle together in a now familiar – but no less wonderful – dance, I reflect that our reality might be the wrong one. But if this is wrong, then I don't want to be right.


	28. Train Of Thought

**_In response to this week's challenge word on the SJFic Yahoo Group: Wildlife._**

* * *

"Ahhh!! Holy … goddamn … son of a bitch!"

"Colonel O'Neill!" Jonas yelled, alarmed when the previously affectionate dog-like creature leapt for Jack and bit deeply into his thigh.

Then wouldn't let go.

"Sir!" Carter gasped, bringing up her zat. "I have to …"

"Just … do it," Jack grated out. The blue energy lanced out and both he and the dog crashed into an involuntary breakdance on the ground.

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Jack opened his eyes with a groan for the ache in his leg, and the one in his head. No matter how many times he got zatted, he would never get used to it.

He squinted blearily around the Infirmary then saw a familiar blonde head slumped forward.

Carter. Quelle surprise.

Seeing as no-one was around, he allowed a small fond smile to lighten his face then tapped her shoulder. "Oh, Major … Rise and shine."

"Drop dead," Carter mumbled sleepily. Evidently, that polite 2IC thing only kicked in after her morning coffee.

Jack laughed slightly. "Carter! I'm gonna disassemble that hyperspace generator of yours. Okay?"

"Fine," Carter muttered.

Then her head shot up. "Wha …?" She blinked rapidly and then smiled sheepishly. "Sir; hi," she offered.

"Hey," Jack replied with another fond smile. She really was adorable at times.

_Yeah. __Not__ a wise train of thought, O'Neill._

"So … what happened with the dog … thing?"

Carter looked solemn. "It was euthanized, sir," she said. "Menera was devastated by its attack on you, as you were …" – she pantomimed quote marks with her fingers – "so loving and beautiful."

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Sam watched her CO blush furiously at that comment and allowed a small giggle to escape.

"No giggling, Major," the man grumbled. "While we're talking about alien conquests …"

"Okay; let's not," Sam interrupted, and he gave her a smug cheeky grin. She smiled back helplessly and resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. He was just so damn adorable at times.

_Yeah. __Not__ a wise train of thought, Sam!_

Thankfully – or not – Janet Fraiser broke up the weird flirtation in a flurry of white lab coat, clipboard and various medical paraphernalia. "Colonel; glad to see you're awake," she said cheerfully.

The Colonel raised his eyebrows skeptically. "You're being awful nice to me," he said. "How long you planning to keep me here for?"

Janet smiled slightly – the Colonel had a well-deserved reputation for being a difficult patient. "Today," she said. "Sam healed your injuries with the healing device – you just need to rest up for 48 hours, and you can do that much better at home."

"Nice." The Colonel beamed at Sam and Janet, causing Sam to blink. Good God – she'd forgotten the wattage Jack O'Neill had! Even Janet seemed taken aback for a second before snapping back into doctor mode.

"You know the routine, Colonel – no drinking, no heavy meals, and get an early night."

"That I can do, Doc," the Colonel said.

"I'll hold you to that, Colonel," Janet said, fixing her stern gaze on the Colonel. "I'll just process your paperwork and then you're out of here."

"Kay. Thanks, Doc."

Janet left the Infirmary for the cubby she called her office and Sam found herself on the receiving end of a brown-eyed stare that should not be so piercing from a man who'd only just woken up.

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"So … how're you, Carter?" Jack asked.

"Fine, sir," Carter said automatically.

"I know how much using that Goa'uld thing drains you," Jack replied. "You were dead to the world when I woke up." He allowed an evil grin to surface. "You were even snoring."

"I don't snore," Carter denied.

Oh, but she did. Nothing loud or annoying. Just a cute little snuffle, punctuated by the odd snort. She refused to admit it, and it had become something of a running joke amongst SG-1 over the years.

"You do, Major," Jonas said, appearing suddenly at the Infirmary door. He grimaced slightly. "Sorry."

Carter stuck her tongue out at Jonas. "I don't snore."

"Kids; take it outside," Jack said.

Which got both his geeks in one fell swoop. "You started it," Carter pointed out indignantly. "Sir."

Yes! Mission accomplished. Jack much preferred it when his team's attention wasn't focused on him. "I don't know what you're talking about, Major," he lied. "Now shoo; I want to go home."

Jonas left with a quiet "See you soon, Colonel, Major Carter."

Jack regarded his 2IC and allowed himself to get serious. "Really, though, Carter – thanks."

A light flush pinked Carter's lovely features. "Any time, sir," she replied.

"Now go away and get some sleep." Jack made a shooing motion with his hand. "And try not to rattle the rafters, will ya?"

"Sir …"

"Carter?" Jack watched her eagerly. Would she take the bait or would she toe the line?

"Bite me, sir."

And then she was gone.

Jack chuckled softly. "Smart-ass," he muttered. God, he adored her!

_Yeah. __Not__ a wise train of thought, O'Neill!_


	29. Family

_POV, Humor, Friendship, slight ship_

_For the Word of the Week challenge on the SJFic Yahoo Group – Explosive._

* * *

I remember that briefing like it was yesterday.

I'd watched my new 2IC as he bantered with the woman that would be his 2IC. The sparks flew between them and I couldn't resist throwing out the comment about Sam Carter being a lot smarter than Jack O'Neill – much to Kawalsky and Ferretti's amusement.

It hadn't been the most professional thing I could have done, but I'd quickly gotten Jack's measure and knew that he needed someone to keep him from getting too cocky.

The brilliant young Captain-scientist would be just the ticket. She would help keep O'Neill's feet on the ground.

Except that Jack got in a slam at Major Samuels' expense and I saw Sam hide her grin at that.

Oh Good Lord … she liked his sense of humor!

I should have known that they'd be trouble.

And they were.

With the Jaffa, Teal'c, and the linguist, Daniel Jackson, they flung themselves headlong into everything. It seemed that they courted disaster at every turn and yet … and yet this group of misfits worked.

Through the years, I watched them grow, alter, suffer, lose, laugh and cry. The bonds were sometimes stretched almost to breaking point – yet something held them together.

They were a family. And like any family, they sometimes didn't like each other all that much, but the love was always there.

Now, I know that many of my rank would mutter about the frat regs at this point. By the letter of the law, this team broke the frat regs with the wake they held when Doctor Jackson was believed dead, with the trip to the Jell-O wrestling match when Sam was harboring Orlin, with the way Jack comforted Sam when Janet Fraiser was killed.

Yet I couldn't bring myself to split up this unbeatable combination. Why mess with success?

The bonds loosened when Jack accepted command of the SGC. They had to. He was now responsible for the welfare of an entire base, not just several oddball individuals.

And now that family is about to be rent asunder. Jack is taking over as Head of Homeworld Security, with a second set of stars, Teal'c is to return to Dakara to help with the newly established Free Jaffa nation, Daniel is off to Atlantis over Jack's loud objections, and Sam is transferring to R&D.

Yet I suspect that the bond will never be entirely broken. Daniel and Jack are engaged in one of their childish round robins, Teal'c watches carefully – as if ready to put them in a timeout if necessary – and Sam …

Well, I pretend I don't see her hand on Jack's knee or the one he has resting on her thigh. There is a gray area in the regs that they've taken advantage of, and I was less than surprised to see the matching wedding bands when they returned from an impromptu team vacation to Jack's cabin.

I think fondly about two of the missing members of the family – Jacob Carter and Janet Fraiser. They would have loved to have been here.

I raise my glass in a silent toast. To friends. And to family.


	30. One Of Those Days

_**Season: 1**_

_**Spoilers: Small reference to 'Broca Divide'**_

_**Genre: Beginnings of friendship, skewed flirting, humor**_

_**Summary: It can take some COs and 2ICs a while to find their rhythm. For Jack O'Neill and Samantha Carter, all it took was one briefing.**_

_**Notes: For the WOTW challenge word on the SJFic Yahoo Group – RHYTHM.**_

* * *

Bored.

Bored, bored, bored.

Jack O'Neill doodled aimlessly on his pad as Daniel pontificated about the wonders of some pre-Hellenistic ruins on planet whatever. He didn't have the heart to tell Daniel to put a lid on it – it had only been a couple months since he'd lost Sha're, after all.

So Jack was bored. While nowhere near as dumb as he would have people believe, he just wasn't that interested in what a musty piece of pottery buried under twenty feet of dirt might say about a long-dead civilization.

Teal'c was listening carefully to the presentation. The large alien seemed to have appointed himself as Daniel's big brother cum bodyguard and yet was keen to learn from him too. "I am a good warrior, Daniel Jackson, but an ignorant man," he'd stated simply when asking Daniel somewhat diffidently for his help in learning more about the ways of the Tauri. Hard to fight that.

Next to Jack, Carter was also listening. Although her area of geekdom was very different to Daniel's, she shared his fascination with the universe. Jack both looked forward to and dreaded the day when cynicism would replace the wide-blue-eyed naïveté he saw now in the fresh young Captain.

A small smile tipped the corner of her lips, and she wrote something on her pad and turned it to face him.

**B****ored much, sir?**

He returned the small smile. **That obvious?**

**Glad it's not just me. I was seriously contemplating doing a lap dance.**

**A what?** And Jack's mind went off someplace else. Someplace warm and happy filled with sweet little tank tops.

**A tap dance, sir. You know; Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly.**

Ah. Jack wondered just when he'd become a dirty old man then debated the merits of teaching Carter decent penmanship.

Another smile tipped her lips, as if she knew precisely what he'd been thinking.

**You dance, Carter?**

**Not a bit, sir. That's how bored …**

"Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us, Colonel O'Neill?"

The Texan drawl broke Jack out of his high school antics and he looked into the blue eyes of his irked CO. "No, sir," he said politely. Hammond was old school in the best way – he'd seen it, done it, could open up a tee shirt shop – but he had a very low BS tolerance.

Hammond eyed Jack and Carter consideringly, and Carter's cheeks pinked.

**Damn, busted**, Jack scribbled.

And now a giggle emerged from the serious young Captain who Jack could've sworn had a big stick up her butt.

An honest to goodness giggle.

Who knew she could sound so cute?

**Careful, sir, we'll be getting sent to detention.**

**I bet that's a first for you, Carter.** He could just bet that she'd been one of those straight-A types who'd looked down their nose at his kind.

**Oh, you'd be surprised, sir. I wasn't always a goody two-shoes.**

Really? Jack's interest was piqued.

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_Are they passing notes to each other?_

General George S. Hammond rubbed his brow and blinked, not sure he could actually believe his own eyes. The Black Ops Colonel and PhD-holding Captain were actually passing notes!

When had the briefing room suddenly become home room?

And when had these two stopped battling each other?

_There__'s a thin line between love and hate, George._

He so was not going there. It was enough that they seemed to have found a rhythm that worked for them. Albeit a childish, warped one.

But enough with the notes.

He slapped his palms down on the table, causing the two children's heads to jerk up and matching 'busted' expressions to flash over their faces. And now George felt like laughing. He shouldn't, and he wouldn't, but they were actually quite endearing – in an oddball sort of way. "Go on, Doctor Jackson," he told the good Doctor.

Daniel blinked rapidly. "Thank you, General," he said and turned back to his presentation.

George sighed then groaned when he saw the Colonel mouth the word 'Geek' to the Captain.

Who giggled again.

It was going to be one of those days.


	31. History

_**Title: History**_

_**Season: 8**_

_**Spoilers: Threads.**_

_**Notes: For the WOTW challenge word 'History'.**_

* * *

They'd become so distant in the last few years – partly by design, partly by happenstance.

Carter had begun to spread her wings, gaining more confidence as a leader, finding love and happiness.

And Jack was not about to stand in the way of that.

He'd truly thought that whatever had been between them was history.

Then he put an arm around her shoulder as they sat in the obs room, watching as Jacob Carter talked with his Tok'ra buddies.

And she held his hand, stroking it with her thumb. "Thank you, sir."

"For what?" They might have grown apart, but he still counted her as a friend.

"For being here for me."

He looked at her, recalling Kerry Johnson's advice. This wasn't the time to think about another failed relationship – or the reason for said failure.

Her eyes were red and swollen with tears, her nose also red and slightly swollen. And he felt something stir to life – something he'd thought long buried.

"Always," he told her. She could take that how she wanted.

She looked at him thoughtfully then snuggled back into him.

Maybe it was time to start a new history.


	32. Falling

_**Genre: POV, UST, Episode Tag, Humour**_

_**Summary: Jacob is worried and Selmak doesn't help.**_

_**Notes: Set after 'The Devil You Know' (S3). For the WOTW challenge words 'Infinite' and 'Silhouette' on the SJFic Yahoo group.**_

**

* * *

**: 

I sit back and gratefully drink some more water and suggest a vacation to Alaska.

Sam smiles and shakes her head, but I can tell her attention isn't on me.

The object of her focus is stretched out near me, stoically enduring what must be crippling pain. I feel for him, but Selmak has enough to do to heal herself and me without adding Jack's ruined knee to the mix.

He glances up and shares a grim look with me – we both know this particular injury could mean the end of his … colorful career.

A small part of me wouldn't be sorry if Jack retired, although I'd rather he wasn't sidelined by injury.

Now don't get me wrong. I like Jack. He can be brash, sarcastic and irritating, but this is tempered by a goofy sense of humor and the deep respect and fondness he has for his 'kids'.

This brings me to my problem.

It isn't exactly a fatherly tenderness that shows on his mug when he looks at Sam.

Nor is it a father-figure liking Sam has for him.

These two are heading for a boat-load of trouble and all I can do is watch and pray that the fallout isn't too hard.

A low groan issues from Jack at that point and I wince – that staff blast wrecked his knee but good.

"Sir …," Sam utters worriedly.

"I'm okay, Carter," he replies, the white face and narrowed eyes giving the lie to his claim. "Just moved wrong."

Sam shakes her head with a small fond smile. She knows him far too well to buy his BS. Then she addresses Aldwyn, who has been unusually quiet since our rescue. "Do you have a healing device?" she asks.

Aldwyn visibly cringes when Teal'c raises an eyebrow in his direction. I don't know what went on in this teltac while we were on Netu, but it's rare to see Aldwyn so subdued. "I … I'm afraid not, Major," he replies.

"Damn," Sam mumbles, slumping downward and pulling up her knees to hug them to her chest – much like when she was a little girl.

Jack clasps her shoulder. "Never mind, Carter," he says, projecting a false air of cheer. "I retired before – maybe the second time's a charm, huh?"

"Colonel …". Sam is now visibly distressed.

Jack winces then closes his eyes, purporting to shut out the whole world.

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Sam and I have now been released from the Infirmary – although that tiny little fireball of a medico was making noises about me relying too much on Selmak's healing abilities. I sigh when Sam's head turns to look at the cubicle where her CO lies recovering from the surgery on his knee. "You want to see him," I said knowingly.

She flushes slightly, possibly sensing the slight accusation in my tone. "He's not just my CO, Dad, he's my friend too."

She's this close to an all-out pout. I could hug her right now. "Go." I give her a little shove. "Doctor Fraiser said he could have visitors."

She disappears behind the curtain, and I see her silhouette as she settles down next to Jack's bed. "Hey, sir," she says.

"Hey, Carter. Where ya been? You missed the cake."

"Well, damn." I can almost hear her grinning at that, and I share the grin. The man does love his cake. "I hope you saved me a piece, sir."

"C'mon, Carter; this is me you're talking to! You snooze, you lose."

Sam giggles then I see her bend her head. "I'm sorry I couldn't do anything about your knee."

"You're hardly at your best at the moment, Carter. You need to get yourself well."

I can't believe it. The man is facing weeks of physio and pain, but his first thoughts are always for his team. He's a good man.

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**Selmak**:

I also observe Samantha and Jack interacting and I like what I see.

I am a patient being.

When you have lived many hundreds of years as I have – from one body to another – you tend to see the 'bigger picture'.

That is why I worry so much about you humans.

Your functional lifespan – from maturity to senility – is so short. Can you truly understand the long-term consequences of your actions?

But perhaps your short lives are the very reason you have so little patience, why you fling yourselves into things without considering all the ramifications.

And why in a few short years your forces have made such a name for themselves amongst the System Lords.

When it was first proposed that I merge with a Tauri, I had my doubts. I had never before blended with a human who had always been free, had not been cowed into submission by the Goa'uld. But I chatted with him and decided that he was a good man who could be an asset to the Tok'ra.

And surely I could 'sand down' the rough edges.

It didn't work out that way, though.

Jacob's rough edges invigorated me, his masculine viewpoint a big change after years of being with Saroosh, whom I loved dearly and still miss more than a year later.

When I blended with Jacob, I had the privilege of getting to know his lovely daughter and the three men who had accompanied her. They were very different to each other, yet they all cared for Samantha … Sam … greatly.

In different ways.

Teal'c, the Jaffa, is a watchful big brother yet very respectful of the fact that Sam is a warrior, just as he is.

Daniel Jackson shares her love of learning, is a very close friend and loves her deeply. There is a tenderness between them that is not generally found between siblings yet I don't see the potential for something more … passionate.

Which brings me to the other man.

Jack O'Neill. He is cynical, quick-tempered, sarcastic, brave, thoughtful, intelligent, and a host of other contradictions.

He loves Sam. And is in love with her.

I have had many a fight with Jacob about this. He is concerned about their age difference, Jack's troubled history and the fact that Jack is senior to Sam. Yet even that stubborn old man has to admit that they love each other.

_**Yeah, yeah**_, he grumbles playfully. _**Doesn't mean I have to like it, though.**_

_**Grouchy old fool**_, I shoot back. _**I wasn't talking to you.**_

Now, where was I?

Ah yes. Jack and Sam.

Sometimes, just to annoy Jacob, I make kissy noises while I am around his daughter and Jack. I do so now, and he grumbles something uncomplimentary in his native language that I choose not to understand.

Besides, I don't think it's anatomically possible.

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**Jacob**:

"You say something, Dad?"

I see Sam's head lift up, her attention drawn from the weird not-quite-flirting thing she was doing with Jack.

I clear my throat. "Oh … ah … snake in the throat."

_**Take **__**that**__**, old woman!**_

"Jacob! C'mon over – don't be a stranger," Jack invites.

I walk over to his cubicle and pull back the curtain. Jack looks a lot better than when we were on the teltac, although he still has a lot of healing to do. Thankfully, the knee wasn't damaged as badly as I'd feared and he should be able to return to active duty as long as his ox-like constitution doesn't let him down. "Hey, Jack," I say, sitting down on the other side of the bed. "I … ah … Thank you. For everything."

Jack shrugs and looks embarrassed. "S'okay," he mutters. "You really think I could've left you there? Even if you weren't Sam's dad?"

I gloss over the 'Sam' and think about his file. As a two-star General, albeit retired, I have a lot of connections and was recently able to read Jack's unvarnished file. He'd done a lot that would haunt a man, but he had a motto that was tattooed into all of his dealings – never leave a man behind. I wonder how much greater that belief was after his stint in Club Med in the 90s.

"Well, I'm still grateful, and I know Sel is too." I feel her pushing at me, wanting to speak, but I resist. Jack has never been comfortable with the host-symbiote relationship, and considering he came within a whisker of being made a host by Hathor, I can't say I blame him.

_**I understand, Jacob**_, Selmak replies sadly. _**Please let him know how much I also appreciate what he did. I consider him a good friend – not just for this reason, but because of who he is.**_

That gave me pause. Selmak was not exactly shy about her appreciation of the male gender, although I sometimes thought she did it just to yank my chain. "Uhh … Sel said she wants you to know that she considers you a friend."

"Oh! Ah …". Jack fiddles restlessly with his IV line. "Well … thanks, Selmak." He looks up from his oh-so-fascinating study of the IV. "Anyway, didn't I hear you were planning a vacation? Alaska or something?"

"Yes, sir," Sam replies.

"Well, shoo then! Go. Have fun. Just bring me back something." He closes his eyes.

"Okay, then." I pat Jack's hand as I stand up, once again feeling grateful for Selmak. No arthritis. "Be good, Jack. I'll see you next week."

Sam stands also and gives me a warm smile filled with approval. For what?, I wonder. "Look after yourself, sir. I'll see you soon."

Jack opens an eye and pretends to glare at her. "You're still here?"

Sam giggles once more. "I can take the hint. Bye, sir."

"Bye, Carter," he replies softly, the love shining in his eyes for all the world to see.

Inside of me, Selmak is making kissy noises once more and gloating. I groan quietly. The universe is vast, infinite. There are billions of people over millions of planets.

So why – out of all those possibilities – did Jack and my daughter have to fall for each other?


End file.
